


Interstices

by Solmae



Series: Interstitial [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Canon Era, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28041969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solmae/pseuds/Solmae
Summary: How Hitsugaya Toushirou met Kurosaki Ichigo – and kept on meeting him.Note:This story starts at the tail end of the Soul Society arc (manga volume 21) and ends roughly around the end of Fullbring arc (volume 54), so there may be spoilers if you haven’t read/watched that far ahead. The E-rating is for Chapters 2 and 3, so if you prefer, you can stop at the end of Chapter 1 and pretend the rest of the story never happened. That’s how I get by in life. ;)
Relationships: Hitsugaya Toushirou/Kurosaki Ichigo
Series: Interstitial [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054097
Comments: 24
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1, Part A

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hekwos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekwos/gifts).



> In honor of [Hekwos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekwos/pseuds/Hekwos). Thank you for sharing your beautiful stories, particularly the epic [By Your Side](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1269593) arc, which makes me so very happy. ♥ You are an inspiration.
> 
> Apologies in advance: this story will jump time a lot, taking place in between Bleach canon main arcs and/or events. I’m using manga timeline, not anime timeline, so please excuse any discrepancies. The story will be mostly (manga) canon compliant, but _will_ diverge from time to time.
> 
> Gimme a nudge in the comments if you see mistakes. I have no beta and will appreciate the help. :)

**Interstices**

[November 2020]

**Chapter 1**

_Part A_

When Toushirou woke up, it felt like waking from a long dream.

No, a nightmare. Where Aizen died and left Hinamori shattered, only to return a traitor and murder her. Aizen’s cold smile, and even colder sensation of steel biting into his flesh, and he’d... He’d...

The empty room around him, devoid of anything but medical equipment, was clearly a private room in the Fourth Division reserved for injured officers. Which meant...

Disorientation swiftly gave way to fury, then to worry: he’d survived, somehow, but had Hinamori? Either way, Aizen wasn’t going to if Toushirou had anything to say about it.

Just then, the door opened, and a boy came inside, dressed in shihakushou with the sleeves secured up in the typical fashion of Fourth Division healers at work. The boy squeaked in shock upon realizing Toushirou was awake, stammered something about fetching Captain Unohana and nearly tripped over his own feet scurrying out of the room. At least it confirmed that yes, he was in the Fourth Division recovery room. Only minutes later, there was a light knock on the door, and Unohana entered, for once unaccompanied by her ubiquitous shadow of a lieutenant.

“I’m glad to see you awake, Captain Hitsugaya,” she said softly, coming to take a seat by his bedside. Her eyes moved over him methodically, so practiced that it seemed a second nature, probably checking off a mental list. “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” he answered automatically. His first question felt like an icy weight in his chest. What if the answer was no? What if Hinamori—

“Lieutenant Hinamori is recovering,” Unohana said calmly, as if reading his thoughts. “But she is yet to regain consciousness. If you wish, you may visit her, but please ask one of the healers to escort you.”

The tension drained from his body, and Toushirou nearly sagged with relief. “Thank you. For my life and Hinamori’s.”

“It was no less than my duty,” Unohana replied, though her lips curved in a gentle smile. “No doubt you will read the reports of what happened once you return to duty. But if you wish, I can give you a brief update now.”

“Please,” Toushirou replied and meant it with all his heart. At this rate, Unohana was going to become his favorite among the other captains.

“Do you remember the circumstances leading to your injuries?” Unohana asked, her voice neutral. Toushirou nodded. “My lieutenant and I found you and Lieutenant Hinamori shortly after. Isane was able to immediately alert the rest of the Soul Society of the treachery. Unfortunately, the traitor Aizen Sousuke and his two conspirators escaped. That was two days ago. In the absence of Central 46, the Captain-Commander has assumed emergency command and ordered a team assembled to monitor any developments.” Unohana paused. Her expression was so neutral, it was difficult to gauge what her personal feelings were, if any. Toushirou simply nodded in wordless encouragement for her to continue. “I fear that you will be asked to resume your duties as soon as you are able, Captain Hitsugaya. Aside from the three divisions now missing their captains, we have two additional captains and two lieutenants who were seriously injured.”

She did not need to remind him what a dangerous vulnerability this was. Nearly half of the captains missing in action. Two lieutenants – one would be Hinamori, but who was the other?

“Who were injured?”

“Captain Kuchiki and Captain Komamura, and Lieutenant Abarai were all critically injured.”

Thinking of Abarai triggered another memory. “And the Ryoka?”

“All four of them survived, though one of them was badly wounded. Two others also sustained injuries, but are recovering.”

Presumably at Fourth Division. Toushirou frowned. “What was their aim?”

There was a brief pause. “To save Kuchiki Rukia-san,” she answered quietly. “Their presence was a distraction planted by Aizen, but for their part, they were not aware of Aizen’s plans.”

“Why did they want to save Kuchiki?”

Though Toushirou himself had gone to the Central 46 to stop the execution, he hadn’t done it out of concern for Kuchiki Rukia. But why would the Ryoka come all the way to Soul Society and infiltrate Seireitei for the sake of one Shinigami?

Unohana was silent once more. When she spoke, her voice was soft and gentle. “It seems that they are Kuchiki-san’s friends.”

Incredulous, it took Toushirou a moment to find his voice. “Four of them came all the way here and faced captains and lieutenants of Gotei 13 for the sake of friendship?”

Spoken aloud, the words sounded even more incredible. There was a hint of curve softening the edges of Unohana’s mouth. “So it would seem.” When she spoke again, her voice was a shade warmer. “They are quite young, all four of them. Although they all seem to have unique powers, to have come so far...” She shook her head. “Despite the confusion they initially caused, they helped save lives, including that of Kuchiki-san’s.”

Speaking of Kuchiki Rukia. Toushirou’s eyes narrowed. “Why did Aizen want to murder Kuchiki in the first place?”

Unohana’s eyes flicked to his face, and though her expression did not change at all, he knew he’d impressed her. It was an inescapable conclusion: Central 46 had been dead for a while by the time he’d found them, their blood dried black. Which meant the order for Kuchiki Rukia’s execution couldn’t have come from them.

“Please wait to read the details from the official report,” Unohana warned him. “In short, there was an item hidden inside Kuchiki Rukia-san’s soul that Aizen wanted. His plan was to execute her using Soukyoku in order to obtain it.” Her voice lowered, growing quieter. “With help from the Ryoka, the execution was halted. Unfortunately, Aizen still managed to steal the item, but Kuchiki-san remains unharmed.”

What was this item that Aizen went through so much trouble to get? He wanted to ask, but Unohana’s implacably serene expression told him he had gotten as much concession out of her as he could.

“Thank you for the update,” Toushirou said instead. “When can I resume my duties?”

Unohana studied him for a moment. “I will have to insist on at least two more days before we can discharge you,” she said in a mild tone that nonetheless brooked no argument. “We will discuss a schedule for your follow-up visits on the day of your discharge.”

“Thank you,” he repeated. That wasn’t as long as he feared. And if he was honest, he could feel the pain along his chest and back from just sitting up and talking.

Unohana inclined her head. “My pleasure. Please rest. The healers will check on you later, but try to remain still for the rest of the day.” She rose to her feet gracefully, and with a short nod, swept from the room like a particularly noiseless crane.

Finally allowing himself to fall back on the bed, Toushirou sighed, and closed his eyes.

~*~*~*~

By noon of the next day, Toushirou was bored enough to ask Matsumoto to fetch him the reports he hadn’t been able to read. Then he regretted the impulse, because it infuriated him to know everything, yet be unable to do anything.

Earlier in the morning, one of the healers had escorted him to see Hinamori. But as he had been warned, Hinamori was still unconscious, though apparently making good recovery. As to when she would regain consciousness, no one could say.

No matter how much it stung his pride, even that short walk to Hinamori’s room had winded him. Toushirou had always hated being sick. Feeling so physically weak was enough to put him in a foul mood, and he had to bite back a very rude retort when the Fourth Division officer – Ogidou? – tried to offer a hand to support him on their way back.

By late afternoon, he was ready to climb the walls. Well, he would have been, if he could actually walk across the room without his chest aching. But staring at the completely bare walls had gotten boring on the first day. He’d already finished all of the reports Matsumoto brought him, and he was regretting not asking her to get him some books while at it.

Finally, he slipped out of the bed, and snuck out of his room. If nothing else, he wanted to get some fresh air.

After a few false turns, Toushirou was able to find an open porch. With a sigh of relief, he made a beeline for the open air.

Or tried to. He’d turned the corner just as someone else had, and collided headfirst into someone’s flat stomach.

“Ow,” muttered the other person, with a sharply inhaled breath, reeling back.

Toushirou glared up at him. While he wasn’t exactly blameless for the mishap, the impact shouldn’t have been enough to hurt. His glare was met with a wince knitting the brows above dark brown eyes, set in a young face topped with shockingly bright orange hair.

“Are you all right?” His voice came out gruff, but at least he’d asked.

“Yeah.” The orange-haired boy sighed. “It’s just. Right now, breathing wrong hurts.”

“Then you shouldn’t be walking around,” Toushirou retorted. Pot calling kettle, but he ignored the thought. 

The boy grimaced. “I know. But there’s nothing to do between waiting for Inoue to show up and heal me some more. I’m gonna go crazy if I can’t at least get some fresh air.”

At least that was something he could sympathize with wholeheartedly. “Over there,” Toushirou pointed. “You can sit on the porch.”

The boy made his way to the porch slowly, and he _was_ looking a bit paler by the time he lowered himself to a sitting position. Toushirou frowned. He didn’t know which division this one belong to, with the Fourth Division likely crammed full to the brim at the moment, but why was the boy even wandering around alone? “You should have asked a healer to help you.”

The boy’s grimace went a little sheepish. “I’d asked where Hanatarou is, but apparently he’s really busy and I didn’t want to bother him. I don’t know anyone else here.”

“What about this Inoue you mentioned?”

The grimace was more of a wince this time. “She’s already spending every minute of her spare time and energy healing me. Anyway I can’t ask a girl to squire me around. Especially after all I’ve put her through.”

The way the boy said it made it clear this Inoue was more than just a healer. A friend, perhaps more. “Then maybe you should have been more careful,” Toushirou told him, unmerciful.

The boy laughed, but hissed in pain immediately. “Ow. Wasn’t by choice. Anyway you’re here, which means you got injured too, didn’t you? Right back at ya.”

“It’s a favor I fully intend to repay,” Toushirou growled without thinking, the sensation of steel biting into flesh still fresh in his memory.

The boy studied him, looking startled, then huffed a short laugh. “Funny. That’s exactly what I’d have said. Who got you anyway?”

Was it possible this boy didn’t know who Toushirou was? Even if he wasn’t wearing the captain’s haori at the moment, there weren’t that many Shinigami in Seireitei who still looked as young as he did. Even the Shinigami who had never met him in person knew about him. Maybe the boy was new?

“Aizen,” Toushirou replied shortly. “You?”

The frown melted into a look of surprise. “Huh. Fancy that. Same here.” The frown was back, almost as if by habit, but it was a thoughtful one. “You’re a Shinigami, right? I don’t think I ran into you before. What’s your name?”

That was when all the pieces clicked together in his head. “You’re the Ryoka,” Toushirou said aloud before he could stop himself.

The boy blinked. “Yeah, I guess that’s what you guys call me. Name’s Ichigo, though. Kurosaki Ichigo. What’s yours?”

“Hitsugaya Toushirou,” Toushirou answered automatically. Out of habit he nearly appended his full title, but stopped himself. He had a question he wanted to ask, and maybe the boy would be more forthcoming with his answer if he didn’t know he was talking to a captain. “Is it true you four invaded Seireitei to rescue Kuchiki Rukia?”

“Five and a cat,” the boy – Kurosaki – corrected him automatically, like he’d done it more than once before. “And yeah. Pretty much.”

“How long have you known Kuchiki?” Toushirou asked, though he could guess. It couldn’t have been long: Kuchiki Rukia had gone missing a few months ago. Her unauthorized absence and equally unauthorized creation of a Substitute Shinigami had been the offenses for which she was arrested.

“A few months,” Kurosaki replied.

“A few months,” Toushirou echoed. “And you came all this way to save her life?”

“She saved mine,” Kurosaki answered simply. The sincerity of his voice was like the clear sheen of a blade, straightforward and true.

Here was a human boy, scarcely out of childhood, who had come to Seireitei and risked his life to save one Shinigami. For her sake, the boy had faced the elite Shinigami of the Gotei 13, their lieutenants and seasoned captains, even Aizen himself. And by all accounts the boy had never faltered in his determination to save Kuchiki Rukia. Life-debt or not, it was a humbling thought.

“She’s lucky to have an ally like you,” Toushirou said finally.

“A friend,” Kurosaki corrected him. “My friends came with me for the same reason.” He looked sheepish again, a hand playing fiddling at the sleeve of his yukata. “Shit, I might have tried to stop them if I’d known what would happen. I mean. They’d come on their own steam, I get that, but...”

“You feel guilty that they were placed in danger by doing so,” Toushirou observed. “You didn’t know how dangerous it would be.” That was an educated guess, and a wince confirmed it. “If you had known, and tried to persuade them to stay behind, would your friends have listened?”

Kurosaki’s frown deepened, lips pursing. After a long moment, Kurosaki answered without looking up. “Probably not.”

“Then don’t take responsibility for their choices. Else, you do a great disservice to their courage and loyalty.”

Kurosaki stared at him, surprise etched on his face. A moment later, a wry smile quirked the boy’s lips. “Got it.” A spark of humor entered the warm brown eyes. “Man, you guys really all talk like this. I thought Rukia was special.”

“Talk like what? Like rational beings?” Toushirou asked dryly.

“Like old farts,” Kurosaki countered with a grin.

Normally it would have raised Toushirou’s heckles, but today, it made him nearly chuckle instead. “I suppose to someone so immature, any wisdom would sound ancient,” Toushirou replied in the loftiest tone he could manage. Kurosaki laughed until he winced again, which was a small revenge in itself. Still, it reminded him that Kurosaki really shouldn’t be wandering around unattended. “Stay here, idiot. I’ll ask a healer to help you to your room.”

“In a minute,” Kurosaki answered. “I just need a little time outside my room.”

Fair enough. “Ten minutes,” Toushirou conceded. “Then I’m sending a healer your way.”

“Okay.” Kurosaki closed his eyes with a sigh, looking for all the world like a cat basking in the sunlight. The glow of setting sun set his orange hair alight and set off the high cheekbones. The shadow of surprisingly long eyelashes rested on cheeks that still held the roundness of youth. And without a frown, Toushirou was struck by how terribly young the boy looked.

An odd echo of fellow feeling coupled with an even odder flash of understanding, and Toushirou held back a sigh. Was this what Ukitake felt when he looked at Toushirou? Someone too young, too abruptly thrust into responsibility, where stopping was impossible and retreat was out of question?

Toushirou stood, doing his best to keep quiet and let the boy rest. Ten minutes. Then he would flag down someone from Fourth Division to come and take the boy to his room. He’d almost rounded the corner when Kurosaki called after him.

“Hey, Toushirou.” Kurosaki’s voice was warm. “Thanks.”

It would be pointless to reprimand someone for not using his proper title when he didn’t give it in the first place. Toushirou swallowed his habitual correction, and simply replied, “Rest, Kurosaki.”

Later that evening, before he fell asleep, Toushirou found himself going over their conversation in his mind. Even if the boy was a Ryoka, there was something odd about their encounter that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Well, aside from the small matter of correcting Kurosaki about the proper way to address him. If they ran into each other again, he would have to do that.

Letting his thoughts drift from his mind, Toushirou closed his eyes to sleep.


	2. Chapter 1, Part B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took off the canon compliant tag just in case, since I haven’t read through the final arc (Quincy/Thousand-Year Blood War) or any of the novels. Shout if you spot mistakes, and I will appreciate any canon citations you can give me. Thanks!

**Chapter 1**

_Part B_

The Fourth Division knew their trade. The next day, Toushirou was able to walk around without trouble, though he suspected flash-steps would be a different matter. In the afternoon, Lieutenant Kotetsu was the one who continued his treatment, and she seemed satisfied with his progress. Tomorrow, she informed him, they could discharge him right on schedule.

No change in Hinamori. The stab wound was deep and went right through her heart. Just one minute later, and even Unohana wouldn’t have been able to save her. But Unohana had reached her in time, and the wound had healed clean, no complications. As to why Hinamori wouldn’t wake up—

Unbidden, Toushirou’s feet had taken him to the same porch he’d visited the day before. He blinked, struck by a feeling of déjà vu, to find the same shock of orange hair in exactly the same spot.

“Hiding from the healers again?” he said in lieu of greeting, just to see Kurosaki twitch.

Kurosaki turned his head with a sheepish grin. “Yo, Toushirou.” The boy gave a half-hearted shrug. “They keep telling me to lie down,” Kurosaki said with a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Lying down is all I’ve done for the last four days. Any more of this and I really will lose my mind. When I meet that Aizen bastard again ’m gonna chop _him_ in half, see how he likes it.”

Toushirou almost laughed, but didn’t: something told him the boy wasn’t exaggerating about the chopped-in-half part. It would explain why even the smallest movement caused Kurosaki pain. “If you had injury that serious, I’m surprised they haven’t just knocked you out and tied you to the bed. Behave and don’t give them a reason. Captain Unohana can be scary.”

“The pretty lady with the braid?” Kurosaki asked.

As descriptions went, that was pretty accurate. “That’s the one.”

“Man, what’s up with Shinigami women? I haven’t met one yet who’s _not_ scary. Including the pint-sized one. The one with pink hair, hangs around with Kenpachi?”

“Kusajishi Yachiru,” Toushirou supplied, amused. “The Eleventh Division lieutenant.”

“Yep, her. I swear everybody from Eleventh looks scared shitless whenever she’s around. But Inoue likes her.”

Toushirou, having had plenty of opportunity to observe the pink hurricane of destruction at work, suspected the Eleventh had a good reason to be scared of Kusajishi. He bit back a grin, a spinal reflex by now, and did not comment.

“I’ve got another day or two to go,” Kurosaki said after a moment of silence. “You?”

“I will be discharged tomorrow,” Toushirou returned. He was already cataloguing in his mind the work he’d missed, the reports he would have to write and the torrent of meetings to attend. 

“Which division are you from?” Kurosaki sounded curious. Still had no idea who Toushirou was, then. “I should have asked before. I forgot.”

Speaking of which, why hadn’t he told Kurosaki who he was yet? That had been his plan last night, and he – had forgotten. But there was something nice about the way Kurosaki spoke to him with no expectation or formality, like they were old friends and not strangers who just met the day before.

So Toushirou answered the easy question first. “The Tenth.”

“Tenth?” Kurosaki blinked in surprise. “Hey, you know Rangiku-san then?”

“Yes.” When had Matsumoto met Kurosaki? As far as Toushirou knew, none of his Division had fought against the Ryoka.

“Heh, I should have asked you sooner. She’s nice, Rangiku-san. Chad and I ran into her the other day. Said she was carrying some stuff for her captain, said he’s here too?” Toushirou was unsure how to respond, but luckily, Kurosaki continued without waiting for a response. “Chad – he’s my friend, from the living world – ended up carrying things for her. She had her hands full, what with the presents and the flowers and all. Said they were for a friend.”

The flowers hadn’t been for him, though Matsumoto _had_ brought him some of the get-well gifts, mostly snacks, so who were the flowers for—

—Ah. 

Kurosaki was looking at him, expectant, and Toushirou swallowed. “The Fifth Division’s lieutenant is her underclassman. She was,” Toushirou’s voice stuck to his throat for a heartbeat, but came out even, “badly injured.”

“Ah.” Kurosaki’s face, even when he was relaxed, still took on a hint of frown, but Toushirou was beginning to see past that, to the sympathy and understanding behind it. “I guess you guys all work with each other. Shoulda thought. Sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks,” Toushirou said after a heartbeat. The sentiment was honest, and he found it easier to accept from Kurosaki, who knew nothing about the tangled history there.

“Guess I messed things up for you guys, huh.” Kurosaki’s expression was more somber now.

“You weren’t to know,” Toushirou pointed out, and blinked at his own tone, so uncharacteristically gentle. “You were only trying to save your friend.”

“Yeah, but I still played right into that Aizen bastard’s hands. That pisses me off.”

Toushirou felt his lips curl. “You and the rest of us.”

“And it means this is not over.”

A sideway glance showed Kurosaki staring into the distance. Toushirou let out a breath. “No,” he agreed.

“Ukitake-san gave me a sort of rundown,” Kurosaki said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “The gist I got was that we’re good to go back to the living world once we’re all better. But what’s gonna happen here? With you guys?”

Unlikely ally or not, Kurosaki was not part of Gotei 13. Toushirou considered for a moment, and chose his words with care. “We’ll have to deal with Aizen and whatever he’s planning.” He wanted to add that the rest was no longer Kurosaki’s concern, but he wasn’t sure if that was true. What he’d gleaned from the reports so far – though he was certain more sensitive details were probably held back, reserved for in-person meetings among the remaining captains – was that whatever else Aizen planned, Hollows were a central feature of his scheme. And what did Hollows consume but human souls?

“But it’s not gonna be easy, is it?” Kurosaki pressed. “Look, that bastard was annoying and preachy but he was,” Kurosaki paused, frown deepening, “insanely strong. Flicked me and Renji off like we were nothing. Hell, he blew away another captain. And he’s got two other captains with him.”

Toushirou could hear the question that Kurosaki did not voice. _Can you win?_

It was not pride when Toushirou counted himself one of the strongest Shinigami in Seireitei. It was the simple truth. That was why he was one of the thirteen captains. Yet Aizen had cut him down so quickly and easily. He hadn’t seen Aizen move, hadn’t even sensed the attack coming. And Aizen had apparently dealt with Komamura with equal ease. That did not bode well for their chances, even leaving aside Ichimaru and Tousen.

“No one said it was going to be easy,” Toushirou replied finally. Kurosaki was young, not stupid. And Kurosaki had already fought Aizen, and had better idea than most what they were facing. Toushirou would not insult him by offering an empty reassurance. “It’s not about whether we can win. It’s about what will happen if we don’t.” He met Kurosaki’s eyes, unflinching. “So – we _will_ ,” Toushirou finished, more of a promise to himself than anything. 

There was a short silence as Kurosaki looked back at him, expression equally serious. Then Kurosaki exhaled. “Huh.” Kurosaki was frowning again.

“What?” Toushirou prodded when Kurosaki didn’t say anything else.

Kurosaki shook his head. “Nothing. Just. You reminded me of something. That’s all.” Toushirou gave him a suspicious look, but Kurosaki only gave him a faint smile, warm and friendly. “Hey, how old are you anyway? Is Rukia older or younger than you?”

Toushirou paused. Age wasn’t his favorite topic to discuss. “Older,” he said cautiously.

Kurosaki’s frown deepened. “See, it’s frustrating that I can’t tell anyone’s age based on their looks. Rukia looks like she’s my age but she’s really old. But Yoruichi-san’s even older than Rukia and she doesn’t actually look that old. You look younger than Rukia but I don’t know if that means anything.”

This time, Toushirou sighed aloud. “In other words, do souls age?”

“...Yeah. That.”

At least it was an honest question. Toushirou held back a sigh, resigned to answering. “Souls with spiritual powers do age, though much slower than living humans do. They also feel hunger and need food to sustain themselves. On an upside, souls with high spiritual powers are more resistant to illnesses and injuries.”

Kurosaki mulled over it for a moment. “It’s weird. Souls aging. Getting hurt or sick.” Kurosaki’s voice went quieter. “Dying.”

“Souls who die in Soul Society are reborn into human world,” Toushirou reminded him. 

Kurosaki did not answer him. After a long and heavy silence, Kurosaki spoke again, his voice very soft. “Not the souls eaten by Hollows.”

It was not a question.

“No,” Toushirou confirmed, his voice equally soft.

Kurosaki’s expression was impossible to read, so still and unlike his usual self. How strange. He’d known Kurosaki for two days and already knew what Kurosaki’s usual self was like. Toushirou had never felt such easy understanding with anyone before. Then again, no one else outside his grandmother and Hinamori had ever been like this with him, effortlessly bridging the space between Toushirou and the rest of the world.

That was when a flash of understanding sparked in his mind, about what he’d found strange about Kurosaki Ichigo. Despite the utter lack of formality, calling Toushirou by his given name when they’d only just met, Kurosaki did not treat him like a child. Right from the start, Kurosaki had treated him with an unquestioned respect given to an equal, and complete honesty reserved for a friend.

“Kurosaki,” Toushirou started, then hesitated. Serious brown eyes were fixed on him, a hint of question in them, so straightforward, and he...

“Captain! There you are. I’m sorry, I forgot to give you this, it was marked urgent—Ichigo!”

“Rangiku-san,” Kurosaki said, looking startled.

“Matsumoto,” Toushirou said at the same time, and they both paused and looked at each other.

Kurosaki’s brows creased. “Captain?”

“Ah.” Toushirou was not embarrassed. He refused to be embarrassed, damn it. It wasn’t like he’d intended to hide it. In fact, he’d had every intention of correcting Kurosaki. He just – hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

Kurosaki blinked, then blinked some more. Then, something eased in his expression. “Geez. You could have said, Toushirou,” Kurosaki said, voice casual.

That eased something inside him too. Toushirou took a quick breath, refusing to label the warmth spreading inside him as relief. “That’s Captain Hitsugaya to you, Kurosaki.”

“What? But I didn’t even know you’re a captain!” Kurosaki protested, but there was a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Now you do. So address me properly from now on.” Before Kurosaki could say anything else, Toushirou briskly continued. “Matsumoto, you were saying about something urgent?”

Matsumoto was watching them with both eyebrows raised, then she smiled, not sly but knowing. “Uh-huh. Right. I found this on your desk. Marked urgent.”

At least a few days old, if the message was left on his desk, and likely outdated. He took it anyway. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Are they still letting you go tomorrow?” Matsumoto asked.

“In the afternoon,” Toushirou confirmed. “I’ll drop by the office after.”

“Okay.”

There was a look in Matsumoto’s eyes that Toushirou deeply distrusted. He let out a sigh. “Matsumoto.”

“Yes, captain?” Her voice was innocent. Too innocent.

“No party,” Toushirou said severely.

Matsumoto gave her a surprised look. It was quite good, actually; if he hadn’t known her for so long, he might even have bought it. “What are you talking about, captain?”

“No party, and no liquor in the office. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, captain!” Matsumoto chirped, beating a hasty retreat.

It hadn’t escaped Toushirou’s attention that she hadn’t directly acknowledged either of his prohibitions. Resigned to a welcome back party, probably laced with a copious amount of alcohol, Toushirou sighed. Half his division would probably end up hungover and useless the day after.

“You should just let them throw you a party,” Kurosaki observed. Toushirou gave him a repressive look, but Kurosaki just looked back at him, completely uncowed. It should have annoyed him, that finding out he was a captain had no appreciable effect on Kurosaki. His own lack of annoyance was mildly disconcerting. “Isn’t it nice to be missed?”

“You don’t know Matsumoto,” Toushirou answered darkly. Kurosaki laughed. Clearly feeling better, Toushirou thought, if laughing didn’t make Kurosaki wince anymore. Not that Toushirou was watching for it or anything. “I’m going back to my room. You should go get some rest.”

“Yeah. You too. Hey, can I come crash your party?”

“There isn’t going to be a party,” Toushirou insisted, but suspected it was a lost cause.

Kurosaki’s grin said he was perfectly aware of it, too. “Uh-huh. Congrats on getting the hell out of here, Toushirou!”

With an eyeroll, Toushirou spun on his heel and walked off. “That’s Captain Hitsugaya to you,” he said over his shoulder.

Warm laughter followed him down the corridor, lingering in his ears even when Toushirou returned to his room.

~*~*~*~

The next morning went by in a blur. Unohana came personally for his final check-up before declaring him fit to be discharged, although she added, her voice deceptively serene, that Toushirou was to return in two days for a final treatment, and then again in one week for a follow-up. Though her placid voice never rose, she made it clear the treatment plan was not optional.

“Will – the Ryoka be discharged soon?”

He’d nearly said Kurosaki. Toushirou wasn’t even sure why he was asking. It wasn’t like he wanted Kurosaki to come and visit him, let alone attend the party that definitely wasn’t supposed to be happening later.

Unohana studied him for a moment. “The Ryoka gentlemen are receiving treatments from Inoue Orihime-san, the young lady of Ryoka, and making steady progress.” Toushirou had known that much, but did not interrupt her. “Although I would recommend another day of healing, they may take a short walk around Seireitei if they wish. I understand the Captain-Commander has given them permission to move about freely as long as they do not cause trouble for the residents.”

“I see.”

Unohana’s movements were as practiced and graceful as any noble lady as she rose to go. At the door, she paused. “If Kurosaki-san attends the celebration for your return, I would recommend that he refrain from drinking alcohol, Captain Hitsugaya. Although he has recovered well, Kurosaki-san’s injury was quite serious.”

Before Toushirou could either protest or explain, Unohana excused herself and left. Clearly, Kurosaki’s escapades had not escaped her notice, or Toushirou’s for that matter. He should have known better to think Unohana would remain oblivious to what goes on under the roof of her own division.

Also, he wasn’t going to invite Kurosaki. Why did everyone keep assuming he would?

Of course, there wasn’t supposed to be a party either. Toushirou was utterly unsurprised when he finally made his way to Tenth Division and found the whole place decked in streamers. The decorations looked familiar, and Toushirou suspected they’d been repurposed, but his seated officers had clearly been hard at work. Apparently he’d returned earlier than expected, and they hadn’t quite finished preparing, but they all hurried toward him to welcome him back.

Stacked haphazardly on top of his poor desk was a sizable pile of gifts, including a colorfully wrapped monstrosity he instantly guessed came from Ukitake. Toushirou let out a sigh, but did not comment. At least his division appeared genuinely happy to see him back.

“Where’s Matsumoto?”

“Picking up more snacks, captain!” said his Fourth Seat, hurrying to set down armful of large bowls. “She said she’ll be back soon.”

Matsumoto wasn’t back soon. And when she did return, she also had the four Ryoka children trailing behind her, and Toushirou twitched in annoyance.

“Captain, you let them start without me!” Matsumoto protested, though Toushirou suspected she was really referring to the bottles of sake and not the party. “And I went through the trouble of inviting your new friend!”

“Who’s my new friend?” Toushirou muttered, just when Kurosaki called out cheerfully, “Toushirou! Congrats!”

“That’s Captain Hitsugaya to you,” Toushirou said in a louder voice, which Kurosaki laughed off. There was a round of introductions, then Matsumoto was dragging Inoue and Kurosaki over to the snack table. Ishida and Sado followed behind them, looking a little awkward. Kurosaki didn’t seem to share their unease, and generously helped himself to the snacks. “Oy! You’re not supposed to be drinking!” Toushirou called after Kurosaki when he belatedly noticed Matsumoto handing him a cup.

Kurosaki blinked. “Eh—”

“It’s fine, isn’t it?” Matsumoto said, unrepentant, but Inoue discreetly nudged the offending cup away from Kurosaki’s reach, handing him what Toushirou hoped was plain tea.

Ishida and Sado were staring, not at Kurosaki but at him. When they noticed Toushirou looking back, their eyes flitted away at once. Inoue’s sweet and high voice was audible in between Matsumoto’s coaxing, something about them still being minors. Kurosaki took the opportunity to slip away from the little group and came to sit by him.

“Hey. Are you all better now?”

Toushirou really didn’t want to have this conversation here, within the earshot of his division. But between Matsumoto and the excitement over the rest of the Ryoka (particularly Inoue), no one was really looking his way. “I have to go back for the last treatment,” Toushirou said. “And a follow-up.”

“Ugh. I’m still not officially discharged until tomorrow. I was surprised Unohana-san let me out when Rangiku-san came by.”

“Your injury was serious,” Toushirou pointed out.

“So was yours,” Kurosaki returned. Toushirou frowned. It wasn’t like Unohana to disclose information about her patients. “I mean, I’m assuming it was. If you faced Aizen too, I can guess. It was bad, wasn’t it?”

A reasonable and intelligent guess. Toushirou shrugged. “Aizen left me for dead. His mistake.”

Kurosaki’s expression was tight. “I don’t get it,” he said quietly. “You know that bastard took his sweet time explaining his whole grand plan while dragging Rukia around by the neck? With me and Renji bleeding out at his feet?” There was closely held fury in his voice, but also, something more aching. “He just – yanked the Hougyoku right out of her, like he was picking a coin out of mud. All the while dangling her like a piece of meat, spouting out some garbage about using Hollowfication to gain greater power...!”

This boy had risked his life to save Kuchiki Rukia. Toushirou thought he understood: to learn that Aizen had planned and orchestrated her murder merely as a means to an end would be infuriating. But the other part – Kurosaki was not just angry. He was upset. Why was he upset? Toushirou felt it, hovering just outside his awareness, seeping through his mind like the chill of ice spreading over his skin.

Kurosaki let out a breath. “D’you know, that night I met Rukia, that was the first time I ever saw a Hollow up close. I – froze up.” As most people would have; Toushirou let him continue uninterrupted. “Rukia jumped in front of me. Shielded me with her own body.” The reports he’d read hadn’t included such a small detail, of course. It would have been deemed unimportant. Once, Toushirou might even have agreed. Yet here it was, one simple insignificant act that set an entire chain of events into motion. “’S because of her that I thought, it wasn’t so bad, being a Shinigami. Save people from Hollows and send ’em on safely.”

Toushirou couldn’t tear his gaze away from the young face, from the magnetic eyes set under the furrowed brows. So full of conviction about doing the right thing. Toushirou couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like that. Back in the academy days, maybe.

Desire to gain power was natural, or so Toushirou had always thought. How strange, that this boy, so young and already impossibly powerful, could meet someone who prized power above all things and utterly fail to comprehend why. Yet all Toushirou could feel was regret that Kurosaki, with his shining determination, should have come so abruptly face to face with the corruption that power could bring. Toushirou let out a long breath. He _understood_ , yet couldn’t find anything to say that might make this better.

“Aizen betrayed everyone who believed in him, even his own lieutenant,” Toushirou said slowly.

Kurosaki looked at him, eyes surprisingly shrewd. “Including you,” Kurosaki guessed. Toushirou felt his lips tighten, but did not refute the point.

“But we are still here, Kurosaki.” It might not be enough, but it was a truth that he could offer. “The three of them betrayed everything that Gotei 13 stands for, but there are still ten of us captains left.”

Kurosaki’s eyes widened, just enough to make his expression less troubled. After a long moment, Kurosaki’s mouth curved. “Yeah. I guess you are.” The words were quiet, his voice drained of the earlier frustration. Looking at Kurosaki’s face was both pleasant and a bit unnerving, like something was tugging away at his insides, not painful but insistent.

For once, Toushirou was grateful when Matsumoto interrupted them. She had one hand closed around the neck of a bottle in a stranglehold, the other clutching a sake cup, evidently not her first of the evening. “What are you two talking about so seriously? This is supposed to be a party. Come and have a drink, captain!”

Kurosaki didn’t look away from him, lips still curved in a private smile. The next moment, however, his smile widened into a grin. “We should totally have a drink. Let’s go find a cup.”

“Stick to tea if you know what’s good for you,” Toushirou retorted. “Aren’t you still a minor?”

Matsumoto laughed and started dragging them toward the table where bottles were steadily being drained, and snacks decimated in turn. As the evening wore on, Kurosaki’s eyes rested on him occasionally, but the gaze was warm and content. When Inoue finally dragged them away, headed back to the Fourth Division, Kurosaki only smiled at him, and said, “See you, Toushirou.”

“Don’t come back until you’ve been properly discharged,” Toushirou returned, but without heat. “And it’s Captain Hitsugaya to you.”

Kurosaki chuckled and waved, and was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, the rating will climb from G to E. If you just wanted a work-safe, canon-compliant character interaction, please stop here and ignore the rest of the arc. 
> 
> Otherwise, onward, o brave souls. ;)


	3. Chapter 2, Part A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re still in the timeline of manga volume 21. This chapter is rated E. If that’s not your cup of tea, now is the time to turn back. Otherwise, have fun. ;)
> 
> I almost forgot: happy belated birthday to Hitsugaya-Taichou. ♥
> 
> Merry Christmas! Wishing everyone good cheer & health for the holiday season!

**Chapter 2**

_Part A_

When Ichigo returned from Shiba Kuukaku’s house, the moon was high in the sky. Once he saw Inoue and Rukia safely back to their rooms, Ichigo turned to head to his own room.

A second later, he stopped and turned around. If this was going to be his last night in Soul Society, he might as well walk around a little. It wasn’t as if he was particularly tired.

With a light leap, Ichigo landed on the roof of the Fourth Division building. The moon was so much brighter here, with the air clearer and sharper than the living world. Ichigo inhaled deeply, and jumped.

Blurring into a flash step took no conscious thought at all. Ichigo couldn’t help but revel in it, the thrill of sheer speed and the freedom of movement in his Shinigami form. Like this, everything felt sharper, more vivid. More _real_. Although he would never admit it aloud, there were times when returning to his physical body felt like stuffing himself into a sleeping bag. Not unpleasant, but at times too warm and heavy. Like a blanket being thrown over him, forming a barrier between him and the world, muffling all of his senses.

Ichigo moved from roof to roof, flowing in and out of flash steps. The Seireitei was silent and still except for the occasional patrols. He hadn’t had time to see the whole place, but already some of the streets were becoming familiar. Fourth Division was back that way. Sixth on the other side. He could just make out the Eleventh Division barracks. Tenth would be over there.

Without any guidance at all, his feet carried him into a leap, another hop to the next roof, then another, until he did a full turn, headed toward the Tenth Division. Aside from attending the party the Tenth threw to welcome back its captain, Ichigo hadn’t had the chance to go back for a visit. A pity – it seemed now that he never would. He knew where the captain’s office was, and the mess hall, but both were probably empty at this time of the night.

No, there was a light. Who...?

He landed noiselessly. It _was_ the captain’s office with a faint light visible through the windows. His curiosity piqued, Ichigo crept closer quietly.

“Either come in or go away, Kurosaki,” Toushirou called from inside.

So much for stealth. Ichigo opened the door and walked into the office. “How’d you know?”

Toushirou didn’t look up from the scroll he was reading. “Who else would walk around thoughtlessly leaking such monstrous reiatsu all over the place?” Come to think of it, Ishida had said something similar before, Ichigo thought with a small grin. Toushirou’s eyes flicked up at him, then down again. “What do you want?”

Ichigo shrugged. “I was out walking. Saw your light. What are _you_ doing here at night?”

“Catching up on work,” was the curt reply.

Only, Toushirou wasn’t dressed for work. He was wearing a simple yukata, the kind one might wear around the house. Clearly, he’d retired to his quarters for the evening, but then had come back to the office.

“At this hour?” Toushirou didn’t answer, but his gaze on the paper was fixed and unmoving. “Toushirou,” Ichigo wheedled, half expecting the usual correction.

It did not come.

“If you won’t ask why I’m looking through paperwork at this hour, I won’t ask why you’re out walking alone at this hour.”

“I just couldn’t sleep,” Ichigo said, frowning when his reply came out sounding defensive. “’Sides, it’s my last night here. I just wanted to walk around one last time.”

This time, Toushirou looked at him properly. The blue-green eyes stopped him cold, and Ichigo stood still, mesmerized by the intense weight of that stare.

“You’re still human, Kurosaki.”

Meaning that he belonged in the world of the living, not here. Ichigo knew that already. A part of him desperately wanted to go home. He hadn’t forgotten his family or friends, or his promise to return to them. But he could no longer claim to be a normal human, either. He was both a Shinigami and a human. And the Hollow inside him, growing stronger, threatening to take over at any moment... If Soul Society couldn’t give him the answers he needed, how could the living world? Going back would solve none of his problems, even if the idea of returning to normalcy held a certain comfort.

The entire time, Toushirou’s eyes on him had never faltered. Ichigo had a feeling that Toushirou was like Ishida in some ways: logical and brilliant, able to see the truths that others missed. But Toushirou’s direct gaze held no demand. Not measuring or weighing, but simply watching him. _Seeing_ him.

Toushirou let out a breath, soft and long. “I will not ask, if you don’t wish it.”

It startled him. And warmed him. Each time Ichigo spoke to Toushirou, it was like this, with no offer of empty reassurance. Toushirou spoke only the truth, and never pretended to have answers when he didn’t have any.

“I don’t know if I have any answers. All I’ve got are questions,” Ichigo finally said, his words a confession.

Toushirou gave him a subtle nod in acknowledgement. His eyes were still on Ichigo, a look of consideration in them. Finally, Toushirou stood and stepped away from his desk, his feet making no sound on the wooden floor. 

“Come.” Toushirou’s voice was quiet and calm. An invitation, not a command.

“Toushirou,” Ichigo said, not as a protest, but in an unspoken question.

“You are under no obligation to accept,” Toushirou told him. “But if you wish to, then come.”

Ichigo stared in surprise at the hand offered to him, palm up. It wasn’t a conscious decision to reach back, but his hand wrapped around Toushirou’s like it was the most natural thing in the world. Toushirou’s hand was smaller than his own but calloused, with thin wrist and strong tendons. Slowly, Toushirou’s fingers closed around his hand. And for a moment, they stood there, joined hands held between them. The single light that was lit on Toushirou’s desk flickered, then went out, leaving them in the dark.

The next heartbeat, Ichigo was pulled into a quick flash step, and without a second thought he moved to match Toushirou’s steps. There was a glint of approval in Toushirou’s glance, but he said nothing. Only a few steps, and they were at what Ichigo belatedly realized must be Toushirou’s private quarters.

The surprise had stopped him briefly. Toushirou gave a light tug, not impatient, more like a question. Ichigo took a breath, and followed.

Like the rest of Soul Society, Toushirou’s private quarters were in the traditional style. They were standing in what Ichigo assumed must be the living room, which was sparsely decorated, but with a lot of books. Seriously a lot of books. There were several shelves full of them. The most prominent furniture was a traditional desk set low to the tatami floor, with a floor chair behind it. Toushirou must had been using the desk earlier that very evening. There was a book spread open on the desk, with a cup next to it.

Toushirou turned around to look at him. “Would you like tea?”

Ichigo blinked. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when he took Toushirou’s hand, but a sedate offer of tea definitely wasn’t it.

“I...”

Toushirou’s expression was neutral as he released Ichigo’s hand. It was distracting, how much Ichigo missed the contact scarcely seconds after it was lost. “There is no obligation,” Toushirou repeated, voice surprisingly gentle. “If you would rather have tea, we will have tea.”

“If...” His throat was dry and Ichigo wasn’t even sure why. His heart was beating quicker, trembling in his chest in some incomprehensible, unnamed excitement. “If I would rather not?”

Toushirou’s mouth quirked. “Then come to bed.”

Shit, Toushirou’s invitation really was for _that_. Ichigo couldn’t help the surge of thrill coupled with nervousness. He was fifteen years old, a healthy teenage male, and it wasn’t that he was uninterested. But he hadn’t done this before, not ever, and not with a guy, especially someone who looked so...so...

“Despite the way I look, I’m older than you, Kurosaki.” There was a hint of exasperation threading through Toushirou’s wry tone. Distantly Ichigo wondered if Toushirou had done this before.

“It’s not. I’m.” Ichigo swallowed. “I’ve never.”

It was Toushirou’s turn to blink. “Ah.” When Toushirou spoke again, his voice was gentler. “Offer for tea still stands.”

Ichigo swallowed again. “And...the other one too?”

Out of his shihakushou and captain’s haori, Toushirou looked more slender, reminiscent of the first time they’d met in the Fourth Division. But the steady strength of his gaze, the stillness of his poise – there was no mistaking it, that he was in the presence of a captain of the Gotei 13. It suddenly made Ichigo feel young. There was nothing dismissive in Toushirou’s expression, however, as he studied Ichigo. Finally, Toushirou replied in an even tone. “Yes.”

“Which – which way?”

“Come with me.”

Toushirou turned to lead the way, and after a heartbeat, Ichigo followed him.

~*~*~*~

Whatever else Ichigo might have expected out of Toushirou’s ‘offer,’ being carefully undressed and caressed was a surprise. He might have thought Toushirou would be brisk and efficient, like his usual self, but Toushirou took his time easing Ichigo out of the shihakushou, touching each part of Ichigo’s skin as it was revealed to him.

A light tug here, slight hint of pressure – those were the only directions Toushirou gave, until Ichigo was completely bare, lying on his back on the futon. When Toushirou pressed a kiss to one raised knee, hand stroking up Ichigo’s calf, the patient care of that touch made his throat tighten. On impulse Ichigo reached up, catching Toushirou by the shoulder. When he sat up, pulling Toushirou down at the same time, there was only a short moment of resistance before Toushirou relented. A little more, and Toushirou’s face was within reach. Ichigo took that lovely face in both hands, and kissed him.

His inexperience must have been obvious in the way he pulled too hard, pressed close too quickly, the angle awkward and forced. But Toushirou did not hesitate, meeting him hallway, and Ichigo tasted something like mint and snow, melting in his mouth. It dragged out a sound deep inside his chest. Ichigo stared in surprise when Toushirou shivered, mouth going slack, but Ichigo had never been particularly shy about pressing his advantages. So he pulled Toushirou closer, slipping a hand inside the yukata, wrapping the other arm around the lithe body.

Toushirou’s gasp as Ichigo touched bare skin was gratifying. Ichigo let his hand wander down farther, trying to undo the knot of the obi, tugging impatiently with his other hand. Toushirou huffed a laugh against his mouth, then pushed at his chest until Ichigo released him. It only took Toushirou a few seconds to loosen the obi, his fingers dexterous and quick, and Ichigo wasted no time pushing the fabric off Toushirou’s shoulders.

Once naked, Toushirou’s slenderness was deceptive. His trim body was that of a fighter, with the wiry strength of someone who relied on speed and precision. When Ichigo ran curious hands over him in one unbroken caress from the shoulders all the way down to the waist, Toushirou swayed with the touch, like a tree branch caught in the wind. Ichigo bit his lip, sudden heat flaring inside him. The wide blue-green eyes and delicate features would have made Toushirou look young and vulnerable but for the expression in those eyes, one that belonged to someone much older. Ichigo wondered, fleetingly, how those eyes would look when that icy composure shattered. 

Their second kiss was more thorough, with an easier fit. Toushirou moved with him, and he with Toushirou, both of them in tune with each other. Not very different from fighting, this instinctive understanding of each other’s movements, the intuitive awareness of his own body in relation to another’s: it was a dance Ichigo understood. So he released Toushirou when he moved, then _stared_ , blank with shock, as Toushirou moved down further, a hand reaching for Ichigo’s cock. When had he gotten so hard?

Ichigo couldn’t help the raw sound that escaped him as Toushirou moved lower still, and took his cock in his mouth.

“Shit,” Ichigo panted, a hand braced on the futon, the other hand buried in Toushirou’s hair. “Toushirou—” Toushirou made an inquiring hum, and Ichigo jumped, breathless and flustered, hand going tight in Toushirou’s hair. “Sorry. Sorry.” Ichigo hastily untangled his fingers from Toushirou’s hair, apologetic. Toushirou looked up at him, his mouth still wrapped around Ichigo’s cock, and yes, that was definitely a smirk.

Then Toushirou dropped his eyes and moved _down_ and Ichigo let out a breathless word he didn’t even understand, because he had trouble remembering his own name, let alone something stupid like what he just said. Toushirou was _thorough_ , mouth moving down leisurely, lips stretched tight around Ichigo’s cock—

Ichigo groaned, helpless at the spike of lust that speared through him at the sight. Toushirou’s eyelashes were long, casting soft shadows as they fluttered shut. And Ichigo reached for him without thinking, wanting those eyes back on him. Toushirou made an inquiring noise, and Ichigo realized his hand was on Toushirou’s cheek.

“I want to see you,” Ichigo blurted.

Toushirou stared at him for a moment, expression unreadable, then pulled his mouth off Ichigo’s cock. Ichigo spared a brief moment of regret, but his thoughts scattered the next moment when Toushirou moved to straddle his lap, scooting closer until Ichigo threw his back with a moan, the touch of hot arousal against his own like an infusion of molten heat poured into his blood.

There was a rustle, then Toushirou reached between them, hands slick with something cool and slippery. Ichigo couldn’t care less what or how. All he cared was that Toushirou’s hands were wrapped around them both, building up a tantalizing rhythm. But Toushirou’s eyes remained on his face, and Ichigo looked back helplessly, captivated by the way Toushirou’s eyes darkened, the way his mouth parted in sharp pants, the way Toushirou’s body undulated against his.

And then Toushirou arched with a sharp gasp, eyes shut and brows drawn together in an expression that was almost like pain, and Ichigo reeled, his orgasm ripping through him like a tidal wave.

Toushirou’s face lost the tight expression and went almost serene when Ichigo pulled him close and guided him down, until they were nestled together on the futon. They should probably clean up, but just then Ichigo couldn’t remember why that would be more important than staying right where he was, tucked under the cover with Toushirou in his arms.

So Ichigo tightened his arms securely around Toushirou, closed his eyes and let his mind drift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not done yet! Second half of Chapter 2 will be out around new year's. Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 2, Part B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second half of Chapter 2. Yep, still E-rated.
> 
> Happy New Year! May 2021 be a better year than 2020 – that’s not a high bar to clear. ;)

**Chapter 2**

_Part B_

Ichigo did not remember falling asleep. When he opened his eyes, he was in an unfamiliar room, and his mind snapped awake. But before he could panic, Ichigo caught a glimpse of white.

Toushirou’s hair was almost luminous even in the dim light, framing his sleeping face. Toushirou’s expression was peaceful, brows smoothed out in rest. Ichigo stared at him, his mind blank save for a sudden and fervent wish to stay right here and keep gazing at the beautiful sight.

That was when Toushirou stirred, his breathing changing, and a moment later, sleepy blue-green eyes opened. It was adorable, the way those big eyes blinked owlishly, unguarded in a way he’d never seen Toushirou before. So Ichigo gave into the temptation to press a kiss on Toushirou’s forehead, close enough to feel the flutter of those long eyelashes. 

Ichigo hadn’t meant the kiss as any kind of overture, but when Toushirou shifted closer, Ichigo stiffened. He was hard – when had that happened? And Toushirou’s eyes were fully awake now.

“Do you want...” Toushirou’s voice was rough from sleep, but his words were clear. Ichigo’s breath caught when Toushirou’s palm tentatively brushed against his cock. Toushirou considered him for a moment, then pulled his hand back, drawing a disappointed sound from Ichigo. The next moment, Ichigo blinked in surprise when Toushirou grabbed a half-used tube. Even as he watched Toushirou flip open the cap and squeeze some of its content on his hand, its significance didn’t quite dawn on Ichigo until Toushirou pushed off the cover and reached for his cock.

Then he was too distracted to think. Toushirou’s fingers closed over his cock, the movement turned into an effortless glide with the lube. But the grip was too lax to be satisfying, and Ichigo whined deep in his throat, wordlessly pleading for a firmer contact. Toushirou laughed, and Ichigo’s breathing went ragged for a completely different reason: he’d never seen transparent amusement on Toushirou’s face before, with a smile playing on his lips, eyes sparkling and face smoothed out in joy. Beautiful. So achingly beautiful, it took his breath away.

“Toushirou,” Ichigo half-gasped, half-moaned, and Toushirou’s lips parted in a quick intake of breath. Ichigo kissed him, chasing after the mint and snow until Toushirou made a low sound. When Ichigo pulled back, Toushirou’s eyes were dark again, pupils edging out the blue-green of the irises. Then Toushirou tugged at his hips, pulling at him to lie on his side, then Toushirou was turning until his back was pressed against Ichigo’s front, fitting their bodies together. It took Ichigo half a second to catch onto what Toushirou meant to do, after his cock was already nudged up against Toushirou’s pert rear. Then Toushirou opened his legs, just enough to let Ichigo’s cock slide between them, then pressed his thighs together.

“Fuck,” Ichigo hissed, pushing into the tight line of Toushirou’s firm thighs, over and over. So deliciously slick and warm, and as he thrust between Toushirou’s thighs, he could hear Toushirou’s breathing grow harsh in counterpoint to his own. It was like a goad to his sides. Ichigo surged forward until Toushirou was under him, moving with more force. He groped impatiently until he found Toushirou’s cock, but the sound Toushirou let out was closer to discomfort. So Ichigo he gentled his grasp, touching with more care, until abruptly Toushirou shuddered, his cock pulsing in Ichigo’s hand. “You okay?” Ichigo husked, fighting the urge to keep moving.

Toushirou’s breaths were coming in pants, but he turned to meet Ichigo’s eyes. Those mesmerizing eyes were so dark now, more black than blue-green, and Ichigo swallowed dryly. His own cock was so hard it ached, but damned if he could move away from that focused look of desire.

“Ichigo.”

The smile that curved Toushirou’s mouth in a gentle upward curl was so unexpected and so lovely, it took Ichigo a moment to register Toushirou had called him by his given name for the first time since they met. Toushirou craned his head up until their lips brushed, and Ichigo’s thoughts were scattered again, blown to the four winds while Toushirou’s tongue was in his mouth, moving sinuously against his own. He thought he’d heard the sound of the cap flipping once more, and then Toushirou pulled away despite Ichigo reaching for him automatically to have him back.

The frustrated whine that escaped was definitely from his throat, Ichigo decided, watching Toushirou settle on his back on the futon. “Wait for me, you idiot,” Toushirou scolded him, but the breathless tone took the sting out of the words. Nonetheless Ichigo didn’t understand what was happening until Toushirou tensed with a quiet exhalation. That was when he finally looked away from Toushirou’s suddenly slack expression, down to where Toushirou’s legs fell open with his hands between them, slim fingers buried deep inside—

Ichigo did not have the breath to spare in a curse. He surged forward to kiss Toushirou instead, drinking the gasps and half-stifled moans directly from Toushirou’s parted mouth. One hand drifted down between Toushirou’s thighs, following Toushirou’s hand, tracing the knuckles and then further down. Toushirou made a desperate noise, then his hand stilled while Ichigo explored. A second later, to Ichigo’s disappointment, Toushirou pulled his fingers out of himself.

“Do it,” Toushirou said, voice unsteady, offering him the tube of lubricant. Ichigo fumbled before catching it, then nearly dropped it again when Toushirou, holding his eyes, lifted his knees and parted them.

The sound that escaped him this time wasn’t anything remotely resembling human. He barely remembered to slick his fingers before reaching for the furled opening that glistened with lube. When Ichigo hesitated, Toushirou huffed and lifted his legs, spreading them wider, knees pulled up nearly to his chest.

His throat felt painfully dry. Ichigo ignored it, too intent on the sensation of his fingertips sliding into Toushirou’s body. Toushirou tensed then relaxed deliberately, exhaling, and a jolt of something cold and unpleasant went through Ichigo, wondering who else had been here before, watching Toushirou’s eyes grow unfocused, his pink mouth open, body twisting with every curl of the fingers inside him.

“Ichigo...”

The sound broke him out of all thoughts. There was only Toushirou, his enticing body splayed open for him. Toushirou’s eyes on him, wide and hypnotic. Ichigo did not look away while he squeezed out more lube on his hand. The sensation was barely enough to distract him as he slicked up his cock, so lost was Ichigo in watching Toushirou, whose icy composure had long since shattered.

Finally, he settled between Toushirou’s thighs that flexed to cradle him. It took two tries to guide himself in, then he was sinking into the tight heat. Toushirou’s breath hitched, coming quick and uneven. Ichigo gasped desperately for air, grasping for shreds of reason, for the resolve not to slam into Toushirou immediately.

“Move,” Toushirou panted, and Ichigo couldn’t help it if he tried. He thrust in, hard, and heard Toushirou hiss. Blindly his lips sought Toushirou’s face, apologetic, but Toushirou was having none of it. Hands were on his shoulders, scratching and pulling, urging him on. Who was he to deny Toushirou?

So he shifted back, then snapped forward sharply, and Toushirou _wailed_ , back arching off the futon, eyes scrunched shut and mouth open. Ichigo spared only a fraction of a moment to sit up, to pull Toushirou’s hips into his lap for better leverage. Toushirou’s legs weren’t quite long enough to rest over his shoulders, but they wrapped around his waist in a surprisingly strong grip, and that was it. The last thread of Ichigo’s fragile control snapped. Again and again he slammed into the tight heat sheathing his cock, while Toushirou writhed under him and clawed at him in complete abandon. When Ichigo grabbed his cock, Toushirou let out a yell like he was in pain, and in three strokes he was coming. Ichigo gritted his teeth and rutted into the vise-like clench of the muscles contracting around him, with enough force to shove Toushirou up on the futon with each rough thrust.

Orgasm slammed into him and for a moment, he couldn’t see or hear, his world lost in a whiteout. When he came to, the first thing Ichigo became aware of was the warmth of Toushirou’s body entwined with his own. He was still inside Toushirou, but Toushirou did not even stir, let alone protest. Ichigo let out a sigh, feeling sated and absurdly happy.

Finally, Ichigo regained enough energy to raise his head. Toushirou’s face was calm, and as he watched, the breathtaking blue-green eyes flickered open, blinking at him drowsily.

“Are you all right, Toushirou?” Toushirou looked rather out of it, but when Ichigo tried to sit up, Toushirou made a displeased sound. “’M gonna pull out,” Ichigo warned him, feeling hopelessly fond. At that Toushirou let out another disgruntled sound, but unwound his limbs from around Ichigo. Carefully, Ichigo pulled back, sliding out of Toushirou’s body. The next instant he made the mistake of glancing down, and had to swallow. Toushirou’s entrance was a bit puffy and red, with a hint of something sticky slipping out of him, painting a glistening trail downward. Ichigo snapped his eyes shut and reminded himself they’d just had sex. Twice, counting the one before they fell asleep.

“Ichi—”

It was only when Toushirou let out a startled yelp which trailed into a whimper that Ichigo realized what he was doing, his tongue painting a stripe up the inside of Toushirou’s thigh, following the trail of stickiness. Toushirou keened, his body jerking and trembling as if he was being tortured. And Ichigo’s thoughts dissolved in white hot nothingness, empty except for the desire for more. He wanted _more_ , wanted to hear that sound again. His hands tightened on the toned thighs, holding Toushirou open, and he licked again, then thrust his tongue inside for good measure, just to hear Toushirou let out a strangled cry. Toushirou’s hands were in his hair, clutching desperately, but the pain was nothing, not nearly enough to deter him. Toushirou’s face was red, the glow of winter sun on a snowy field, as he moaned and panted. And those eyes, glazed and half-mad. Ichigo groaned, pushing in deeper, feeling the muscles spasm around his tongue.

Toushirou writhed on the futon, and screamed as he came. Ichigo pulled out, but couldn’t help licking a few more times, making Toushirou quiver. Only when Toushirou sobbed and mewled piteously did he stop and sit up to survey his handiwork.

And frowned when tiny flecks of white landed on him.

“What the...”

Snowflakes. There were snowflakes in the air. The temperature had dropped to a wintry chill in the room despite being in the middle of summer, and Ichigo hadn’t even noticed.

Toushirou appeared ready to pass out, but his eyes fluttered, focusing after a few blinks. Ichigo wasn’t completely sure, but he thought Toushirou looked a bit abashed. _Ah._ Now that he was paying attention, the air itself was thick with Toushirou’s reiatsu, pulsing against his own. Almost like when he was fighting Kenpachi, only this was more like a dance, languid and sensuous.

“Does this happen every time?” Ichigo asked lightly. His hands were stroking Toushirou’s thighs, because he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching, especially when every lazy drag of his palms made Toushirou shiver.

“I wouldn’t know,” Toushirou muttered. Ichigo frowned, but before he could analyze what Toushirou meant, Toushirou’s hips lifted, thighs falling open a little more. “Go ahead,” Toushirou said, voice steadier if a little hoarse.

That was when Ichigo remembered he was still hard and throbbing. And Toushirou was – he was inviting Ichigo to...

Ichigo gritted his teeth, taking his own cock in his hand. He kept his eyes on Toushirou, who lay spread out under him, hair mussed, eyes dark and face flushed, pale abdomen striped with his own come, all the way down to where Toushirou was keeping his legs open for him, and to the swollen entrance begging for another touch. He wanted to, more than anything, but then he might miss the way Toushirou’s eyes dilated, the way the lithe body tensed, straining upward for him. Their eyes met and held, and Toushirou let out a sound, shivery and hot, which Ichigo answered with a groan, hand tightening over himself.

“Come, Ichigo,” Toushirou commanded, and Ichigo threw his head back, body seizing up, his release adding to the mess on Toushirou’s belly.

~*~*~*~

Afterward, Ichigo snatched something off the floor that he devoutly hoped wasn’t anything important to give both of them a cursory wipe, then gathered Toushirou in his arms, pulling the cover over them. They drowsed together while the temperature climbed back to normal.

Rose and gold of dawn’s rays were spreading across the eastern sky when Ichigo woke up again. Toushirou stirred a minute later, and Ichigo was glad Toushirou had his eyes closed, because he was sure the expression on his face was probably something awful or stupid. Or both. The blue-green eyes focused on him that moment, still sleepy, and Ichigo stared back, as helplessly drawn to them as before. Toushirou went from barely awake to startled in an instant, eyes widening, awareness flooding them. This time, when Toushirou squirmed out of his hold, Ichigo didn’t stop him. Toushirou flinched when he sat up, his back to Ichigo, and Ichigo reached out to steady him automatically. Although Toushirou froze when Ichigo touched him, he didn’t reject the support.

“Toushirou,” Ichigo rasped, about to ask if he was okay, if _they_ were okay.

“You should head back,” Toushirou murmured without turning around to face Ichigo. He cleared his throat, though he sounded a bit raw. “Before your friends wonder where you are.”

That was probably his cue to leave. Ichigo wasn’t that clueless, and knew he should take the chance to go before this became even more awkward. But the way Toushirou was perched gingerly on the futon, avoiding resting his weight on his backside – it made the line of his spine look achingly vulnerable. Ichigo wrapped his arms around him, and laid a quick kiss on top of Toushirou’s messy hair before Toushirou could tell him to get lost already.

Only, Toushirou didn’t push him away or say anything. He’d gone stiff, but relaxed after a moment. So Ichigo pressed his lips to the white hair, inhaling. Mint and snow mixed with a little bit of musk and maybe Ichigo himself. The thought caused a sharp tug in his chest. He should say something. If only he could figure out how to put into words the swirl of emotions closing up his throat.

Finally, Toushirou sighed, leaning back into the embrace. “Come on. A shower, then we both have to go,” he said quietly.

But since Toushirou didn’t shrug him off, when Toushirou left the futon, Ichigo went with him. And even when they were in the washroom, Toushirou did not object when Ichigo sat behind him and slid his fingers into Toushirou’s hair. Ichigo had done this for his sisters a lot when they were younger, and washing Toushirou’s hair for him, wordlessly taking care of him – it felt familiar enough to settle his nerves. The only unexpected part was that Toushirou didn’t stop him.

Amazingly, Toushirou still hadn’t told him to get lost when they were both dried and dressed, more or less presentable for Ichigo, once again immaculate for Toushirou. Toushirou didn’t seem angry or upset, only thoughtful, and Ichigo fidgeted, unsure what to say, how to bridge the awkward silence between them.

“You regretting it?” Ichigo blurted, unable to bear it any longer.

Toushirou glanced up and those arresting eyes did not hesitate to meet his, sure and direct. Or maybe simply brave. Maybe Toushirou wasn’t the type to look away even when he wanted to. “Not for the reasons you might expect,” Toushirou answered.

Ichigo had no idea what reasons he should expect in the first place. Some of his incomprehension must had shown on his face, because Toushirou actually chuckled. And God help him, Ichigo couldn’t tear his eyes away if his life depended on it. And there it was: Toushirou’s eyes, widening slightly, reflecting the blue-green of a glacier, deep and steady. But they were not unfeeling. Never that.

“Your friends will worry,” Toushirou said softly.

A deliberate reminder, that he was supposed to be leaving today. A pang went through Ichigo. When would he be able to come back here? Would he be able to return at all until he died?

That was when the idea hit him.

“Toushirou,” Ichigo called, and Toushirou peered at him, question in his eyes. Instead of answering, he leaned down to take Toushirou’s face in his hands, and kissed him. He hadn’t so much as kissed anyone before last night, yet here he was, feeling Toushirou’s mouth soften under his, tasting him. “Toushirou,” he whispered, right against Toushirou’s mouth.

Toushirou didn’t pull away, but their height difference meant Ichigo was bent over him at an awkward angle. But the way Toushirou kissed him back, nothing held back and giving it as good as he got...it was addictive. It was only with a great deal of reluctance that Ichigo broke the kiss.

“Visit the living world once in a while,” Ichigo said when they finally parted.

Toushirou’s mouth was red, tempting him to go back to kissing, but Ichigo resisted the urge. He wanted a real answer here. Toushirou blinked a couple times, then gave him an exasperated glare. “I’m busy.”

“But you _can_ visit,” Ichigo pressed. “Some of you do work in the living world, don’t you?”

Toushirou’s mouth quirked. “I haven’t been stationed in the living world since I became a seated officer,” he replied.

That wasn’t a no. Ichigo was proud of himself for picking that out. “But you guys get days off work? And living world – not off limits?”

Toushirou shook his head. “You’re stubborn.”

“Yes.” Pot calling kettle black, but at least that was a fault Ichigo could admit to. “Come visit, Toushirou.”

“I have to get to work,” Toushirou said, but before Ichigo could feel disappointed, Toushirou yanked him down by the front of his shihakushou in one economic movement, and kissed him. “And that’s Captain Hitsugaya,” he husked. Before Ichigo could pull him back for another kiss, Toushirou stepped away, flowing into a flash step so smooth that Ichigo stood to admire it for a second instead of giving chase immediately. By the time he realized his mistake, Toushirou was too far to catch.

“Toushirou! Come see me off later!” Ichigo yelled after him instead, unsure if Toushirou could even hear him. Toushirou did not slow down or stop.

In the distance, Ichigo thought he heard a faint chuckle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The funny thing about Ichigo/Toushirou is that Toushirou’s the one who looks younger, yet it’s Ichigo who is underage. I’d feel guilty but I spent far too much time with Prince of Tennis to bother. Although, I do regret that Interstitial arc does not feature the grown-up version of Toushirou, who is so hot, you wonder how the ice isn’t melting right off of him. ♥ Kubo-sensei is _so_ good to us.
> 
> Chapter 3 will be out in January 2021, and will be in 4 parts. Until then, happy new year!


	5. Chapter 3, Part A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 jumps time a LOT. It starts in the beginning part of Arrancar arc, and skips most of the arc to go straight to the end of Fullbring arc. I’ll add notes for timeline reference. Sorry if this gets confusing.
> 
> Part A of Chapter 3 starts in manga chapter 195 “Death & Strawberry (Reprise)” (v22), just before Team Hitsugaya shows up at Ichigo’s high school, but bulk of this part happens around chapter 213 “trifle” (v24), in the aftermath of Grimmjow’s first visit to the living world.

**Chapter 3**

_Part A_

There were times Toushirou was grateful to have Matsumoto around. She had a knack of putting anyone at ease – and of getting everyone else to do things for her. Toushirou knew he lacked her grace where people were concerned. In fact he relied on her from time to time precisely for those qualities.

This, however, was not one of those times. What should have been a simple mission led by Abarai had somehow snowballed into a fiasco that _he_ was roped into leading. Not that this little group of misfits seemed to notice, but there was a war on, and the entire Gotei 13 was frantically preparing for the campaign against Aizen’s forces. If Matsumoto hadn’t insisted on going, Abarai, being a lieutenant and outranking the rest of the advance party, could have led the mission. But no, she wanted to go, and no one in their right mind would put _Matsumoto_ in charge, her seniority over Abarai notwithstanding. So here he was, saddled with the babysitting duty.

“Captain, aren’t you glad? If we weren’t being sent on a mission, who knows when we would have had time to visit the living world!”

“We don’t have time for this,” Toushirou said in what he hoped was a forbidding tone. “We have so much to prepare—”

“Eh, there are other divisions,” Matsumoto interrupted, not sounding worried in the least. “Besides, watching over the living world is just as important, isn’t it? Especially given what happened.” A sober reminder of the unexpected Arrancar attack which left Sado Yasutora and Inoue Orihime seriously injured. He’d had to content himself with reading the report that Kurosaki Ichigo had escaped with only minor injuries, thanks to the intervention of Urahara Kisuke and Shihouin Yoruichi.

...Toushirou was not glad to have a reason to be in the living world. And he definitely hadn’t thought about Ichigo’s invitation. Much.

Once they were in the living world, there was yet another fuss over the gigai issued to them, more specifically the school uniforms. Toushirou resisted the urge to rub his temples, trying in vain to tune out Matsumoto complaining how tight the blouse was, then popping open the buttons until Abarai looked like he was about to have a nosebleed. The look Kuchiki gave Abarai could have peeled off skin. Toushirou had to snap at them to get them moving already.

His mood did not improve upon entering Karakura First High School, especially when the stares and the whispers started. The gigai were meant to resemble their spirit bodies as closely as possible. But did they have to make his so _short?_ Ten or twenty extra centimeters in height, so he didn’t stand out so much. Was that too much to ask for?

When Abarai opened the sliding door and called out a greeting, the blank shock on Ichigo’s face was funny only for the three seconds it took Ichigo to call him “Toushirou” again. In front of everyone. In particular Matsumoto, who made a small gleeful noise. 

“That’s Captain Hitsugaya to you,” Toushirou retorted, but rather than reacting with the usual warmth or amusement, Ichigo still looked badly off balance.

“Wha-what are you doing here?”

And of course, just when Abarai started explaining, the younger Kuchiki made her grand entrance through the window, and twenty seconds later, she went flying out the window, dragging Ichigo’s Shinigami form firmly by the hair.

Only half-listening to the bickering of his ‘team,’ Toushirou gritted his teeth. So much for blending in with the humans. Next time, he was definitely going to make someone else deal with this lot.

~*~*~*~

Toushirou’s usual luck meant a group of Arrancar attacked the same night his team arrived in the living world. A part of him was dismayed just how much effort it took to defeat the Arrancar, but Toushirou was glad he’d come after all: if Abarai had arrived with only Kuchiki, Madarame and Ayasegawa, who knew if the group would have survived their first fight?

Later that night, it was Ichigo who found him on the roof of Inoue’s apartment building. Even though Ichigo’s flash steps had improved enough that one could barely feel the displacement of air as he landed, Toushirou had long since sensed him coming: Ichigo still leaked his reiatsu atrociously. Toushirou didn’t turn around when Ichigo noiselessly walked over to join him. Several stories underneath his feet, inside Inoue’s apartment, both Matsumoto and Inoue were sleeping the sleep of the totally exhausted. He wished he could do the same, but his mind was still on an overdrive, analyzing the battle and their opponents, sketching out the outlines of the report he would need to write come morning.

“You okay, Toushirou?”

He turned his head minutely to glance at Ichigo, who appeared mostly unharmed. Which was probably more than they could have asked for, given he’d faced an Espada scarcely a few hours ago.

“I’m fine.” He nearly appended the habitual correction, but Ichigo looked so listless, he didn’t have the heart. “You?”

“Fine,” Ichigo answered automatically. And paused. His eyes were downcast, staring at the concrete of the roof. “How’s everyone else?”

“Resting,” Toushirou answered pointedly. Which was exactly what Ichigo should be doing, but if he voiced the thought, Ichigo would point out so should Toushirou. It felt like an odd echo of Ichigo’s last night in Soul Society.

“Ah.”

There was a long silence. After waiting for a few minutes, Toushirou prompted, “What’s wrong?”

“You heard me and Rukia talking earlier.” It wasn’t a question.

There was no point in denying it. “Yes.”

“Then you know about—” Ichigo inhaled sharply, “—my problem.”

“The Hollow inside you,” Toushirou said, keeping his voice neutral. Ichigo shrugged, but it was a defensive gesture. Toushirou’s thoughts turned to Aizen’s interest in Ichigo, and what it would mean for their future. For Ichigo. 

Ichigo’s smile was wry. “Another sleepless night for both of us,” Ichigo observed. “Feels familiar.”

Toushirou didn’t bother to answer that. He was a lot more concerned about the half-resolved, half-resigned look in Ichigo’s eyes. “What do you plan to do?”

Ichigo blinked at him, but did not immediately deny it. “Why do you think I’m planning anything?” Ichigo asked, voice low.

Because he’d seen Ichigo’s expression while Inoue healed Kuchiki. He wasn’t entirely sure the exact nature of Ichigo’s feelings toward Kuchiki Rukia, but anyone who’d spent five minutes with Ichigo would notice Ichigo’s deep-seated need to protect the people around him. Something Toushirou understood only too well. And now Ichigo had been confronted with a visceral evidence that his current strength wasn’t enough to protect those he cared about. It wasn’t a stretch of imagination to think Ichigo would do something about it. Maybe even do something drastic.

“Don’t do anything reckless,” Toushirou warned him. He knew he couldn’t stop Ichigo or change Ichigo’s mind. But he _could_ remind Ichigo there were people who cared about his well-being. “Your friends will worry.”

“Will _you_ worry?”

How to answer a question when the most straightforward answer was also the most treacherous? He’d seen the way Inoue’s eyes kept flickering to Ichigo then flit away, as if afraid to linger too long and be noticed. Even if he hadn’t overheard Matsumoto’s conversation with Inoue earlier, it was blindingly obvious how Inoue felt about Ichigo. And out of the tangled web of humans and Shinigami that surrounded Ichigo, there was no denying Inoue was the most suitable one for him.

But Ichigo was here, standing next to him with an expression that made Touchirou’s chest ache. Whatever else happened in the future, for this moment, Ichigo was here with him.

“That you’d cause some other trouble that will no doubt throw both the living world and Soul Society into utter chaos?” Toushirou gave him an arch look. “Yes, Kurosaki, I’m terrified.”

Ichigo’s smile was small but genuine. After a beat, he remarked, voice a tad too nonchalant, “You called me Ichigo before.”

Teenagers. So sensitive. Toushirou would have rolled his eyes, but he was finding it sort of endearing that Ichigo was so hung up on everything he said and did. Just a tiny bit. Toushirou blamed it on his wounds from earlier.

“Did I?” Toushirou asked casually, deliberately pitching his voice low. “Must had been a memorable occasion.”

Ichigo looked taken aback, then indignation mixed with heat. The next moment, Ichigo deliberately crowded him against the railing of the roof, arms on either side caging Toushirou. “Yeah, it really was,” Ichigo said with a scowl.

“Mm,” Toushirou hummed, dismissive, though his heartbeat quickened. “Why don’t you remind me then?”

And Ichigo was on him in a flash, mouth hot against Toushirou’s, more confident than he remembered. Toushirou nipped him for his trouble, and heard a sound of frustration rumble in Ichigo’s chest. Then Ichigo pressed tightly against him, pushing him into the railing, and Toushirou’s surprised noise turned into a moan. Ichigo’s arms were around him now, lifting him with an easy strength, and when had his legs moved to wrap around Ichigo’s waist without his direction or permission?

“Toushirou.” Ichigo’s breath was hot on his face, and Toushirou growled in response. Why was Ichigo talking when they could be kissing? “Toushirou, is this okay—”

Toushirou did not reply verbally, and yanked on Ichigo’s hair hard enough to make him yelp and jerk back. _Now_ they were at a proper distance for Toushirou to lean close and bite that full lower lip. That shut Ichigo up nicely, and had the added bonus of eliciting a series of very arousing sounds. Then Ichigo pulled back _again_ , and that was it, Toushirou was going to give him a piece of his mind. With the sharp edge of Hyourinmaru if needed be.

“Not here,” Ichigo whispered breathlessly. Toushirou’s annoyance derailed at that. No. Not here. Not so close to Matsumoto and Inoue. A few hours ago Inoue had healed him from a critical injury. This was unforgivably disrespectful even if she never found out. Even if ten or fifteen years later, she was the one destined to be in his place, kissing Ichigo breathless and never wondering where Ichigo learned to kiss. 

“Not here,” Toushirou agreed. Toushirou swallowed the uneasy lump of guilt in his throat. One night wouldn’t change anything. He could excuse one last night of self-indulgence.

“Come on.”

How strange, that he had no hesitation at all, simply reaching back to take Ichigo’s hand. When Ichigo blurred into a series of flash steps, Toushirou did not question, merely keeping in step with him. They were a good distance away from Karakura Town when Ichigo stopped on the roof of a well-kept traditional house by a small lake deep in the woods. A summer house for a wealthy family, perhaps. Ichigo leaped from the rooftop to the wooden porch that extended over the water. After taking a second to look around, Toushirou did the same.

“We used to come here for family vacation years ago. Apparently my old man knows the owner.”

The house was obviously empty, and there were no lights. But away from the city, the sky was clear and generously sprinkled with stars. And under their feet, the calm waters of the lake mirrored the heaven above, its surface full of starry reflection.

“It’s beautiful.”

Ichigo’s lips curved. “I thought you might like it.”

Toushirou blinked when Ichigo set aside his zanpakutou and sat down cross-legged on the porch. And there it was again. The way Ichigo dropped his guard, just like that, like he was utterly sure of Toushirou. The way Ichigo looked at him, appreciative, no calculation behind his gaze.

That night in Soul Society, Toushirou had had every intention of keeping it simple: one night of pleasure between two people who would likely never meet again. But then Ichigo had kissed him, clumsy and rough but like he _meant_ it. Had touched him and looked at him like they were lovers and not near-strangers. And Toushirou had gotten caught up in the moment, had allowed Ichigo _inside_ , and...

...And Ichigo was looking at him the same way now, like there was nothing else in the world he would rather look at. Caught in that intense gaze, Toushirou didn’t resist when he was pulled into Ichigo’s lap.

Instead of undressing him, Ichigo studied him for a long time without speaking. “What?” Toushirou finally asked, unable to bear the silence anymore.

“Nothing. I just like looking at your eyes,” Ichigo answered easily, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

His eyes. His unnatural eyes that made people avoid him, and prompted whispers behind his back. An uneven breath escaped him.

“Toushirou?” Ichigo’s face was close, expression concerned.

Toushirou exhaled carefully, struggling to regain his composure. “I seem to recall a promise to remind me of some memorable occasion,” he said, and was proud his voice came out steady, promising even.

“Yeah. I did promise that.” But Ichigo still didn’t touch him, let alone rip him out of his clothes and get going. “Just. Let me look at you first. In case it takes me a while to get back.”

No. _No._ There was no need for Ichigo to complicate this night with unnecessary – _feelings_ , his traitorous mind whispered before he crushed the thought – expectations. “Kurosaki—”

“And maybe when we’re not in the middle of an imminent war, we can – I don’t know. What do Shinigami do when they date?”

The last word was spoken with a hint of uncertainty. Toushirou hesitated before he decided on the blunt truth. “Kurosaki, we’re not going to date.”

Anger or incomprehension, Toushirou would have understood. Even hurt. What he didn’t expect was the thoughtful eyes studying him. “Why not?”

Damn Kurosaki Ichigo for always throwing him off on a loop. “For one, I’m a Shinigami, and you’re a human. After this mission, I’m going back to Soul Society. You’re staying here. I may not look it, but I am much older than you. Do I need to go on?”

Ichigo appeared to give his words a serious consideration, which made what came afterward even worse. “Didn’t stop us the first time, already knew you were older, and don’t bother.”

“Kurosaki,” Toushirou said sharply, exasperation beginning to stir. He nearly snapped, _Inoue Orihime is in love with you._ But those feelings weren’t his to reveal. He was the one intruding, taking something that wasn’t his, if only because Ichigo didn’t know what he could have but for asking. 

“I know we haven’t known each other long. So I’m saying, let’s get to know each other. Isn’t that what people do when they like someone?” 

“What makes you think we even like each other?” Toushirou shot back reflexively, and hid a wince. That had come out unnecessarily harsh. But even though Ichigo’s expression tightened, he didn’t seem angry or wounded.

“Interested, then,” Ichigo amended. “I don’t know. Call me crazy, but I like talking to you. I like what I’ve seen so far. Isn’t that enough?”

Problem with insanity in general, and Ichigo’s brand of insanity in particular, was that at some point, it started to sound borderline reasonable. Of course Ichigo wouldn’t think twice about jumping into a situation knowing next to nothing, that was exactly what he’d done to save Kuchiki Rukia. (Worse, it had worked.) And there was a seductive logic to all this. He was deployed here in the living world until the inevitable war, which might last months. Ichigo wasn’t proposing anything too out of bounds: Shinigami did in fact have romantic relationships in Soul Society, even married and had children. While there was that little problem of Ichigo still being human, he was a Substitute Shinigami, which was...

_Substitute Shinigami._ Shit. He’d forgotten.

“There are things you don’t know, Kurosaki Ichigo.” Toushirou’s voice came out flat and drained. “You will feel differently once you know.”

Ichigo blinked at him. This close, Ichigo’s dark eyes seemed endless, even when they narrowed in concentration. It reminded Toushirou that he was still in Ichigo’s lap. In fact it was high time he moved away—

Ichigo’s warm hand on his bicep arrested his movement. So shockingly warm, that hand, and strong. But while the grip was firm, it wasn’t a restraining hold. It was just distracting, enough that it didn’t occur to Toushirou to break free.

“These being things about you specifically? Or something else?”

He was a captain of Gotei 13. All that happened in the past, and the decisions they have made since, even if it wasn’t his exclusive choice, those were still things for which he was responsible. This was another thing he couldn’t tell Ichigo. Not now, maybe not ever, no matter the consequences.

A part of him hoped he wouldn’t have to, that the past would stay buried and Ichigo would never find out. Even when he knew how futile that hope was, Toushirou couldn’t help it.

“Never mind,” Ichigo said softly. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Toushirou stared at Ichigo.

“I know I’m a kid compared to you. I know you’ve got things you can’t tell me. I get that. You being a captain probably makes it worse. And I don’t know how to ask you without tracking mud all over everything. So I’m not gonna ask.”

Toushirou couldn’t find a single word to say, staring at him wide-eyed. What could he say? It was impossible, that anyone could be like this.

“When I fought Byakuya...” Ichigo trailed off, not uncertain, pausing only to search for the right words. “...See, there was something I just didn’t get. Sure, he’s kinda stuck up and arrogant, but he wasn’t evil or cruel or anything like that. There was nothing like that in his sword. Just absolute conviction, that letting Rukia die was the right thing to do. Drove me fucking nuts. I don’t know, maybe someone like you, could have sat him down and talked it out. I can’t. So I fought him.”

And had won. Not merely the fight, but the entire underlying argument. However it happened, Kuchiki Byakuya had left that battle conceding his defeat to Kurosaki Ichigo. There was a sliver of amusement fleeting through Toushirou’s mind, that an all-out battle was like a conversation to Ichigo, the best way to understand one another.

“I still disagree with him, by the way, so I’m glad I won. And I’m not sorry for saving Rukia. I can never be sorry for that. But I barged in, and I had no idea what was going on. So I probably broke things that I shouldn’t have touched. Because I didn’t know any better.”

A protector. That was what Ichigo was. However clumsily he went about doing it, Ichigo had absolute conviction that his strength existed to protect people. Even meeting Aizen hadn’t changed that belief. Toushirou couldn’t help the warmth that spread from the pit of his stomach. Between Ichigo and his three friends, the four human teenagers had wreaked havoc through the Seireitei and put the entire Eleventh Division in the infirmary plus some more to spare. Yet somehow, they’d left having won not only the respect from the Shinigami they’d fought, but also the affection of the Rukongai residents who distrusted even the Shinigami. And that was the true power of the force of nature named Kurosaki Ichigo.

“You still don’t know any better,” Toushirou said quietly. _And I pray you never will._

Ichigo shrugged. “Probably.” Then, Ichigo sighed. “Hey, ’m not asking anything else here. Can you stay tonight?”

“I—” _Can’t,_ he meant to say, but the word somehow didn’t manage to struggle past his lips.

“Just tonight, Toushirou.” Dark eyes held him, so direct, so honest. Toushirou couldn’t have torn himself away if he tried. He could even admit that he’d never wanted to in the first place. “When I come back, I’m gonna ask you again then. But for now, tonight’s all I’m asking for.”

It wasn’t that Ichigo was asking for anything unreasonable. Far from it. It was that Ichigo deserved so much more. But Toushirou was the one here, and he was the one Ichigo was asking.

In the end, there really was only one answer Toushirou could give.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the rough quality. This wasn't my favorite part of the story.
> 
> Chapter 3 Part B will be E-rated. Again. ;)


End file.
